I hopped on my bike and set off towards Halifax from the Aberdeen before 8:00 am. I made great time and soaked up the sun and crisp morning air for several hours before I hauled off to fuel the tanks; mine and Jules’.

The Smitty’s parking lot in this town (don’t recall where I was) was a gong show. Sigh. Where to park so I’m not in the way? I saw a sliver of space between a girder and a pickup, but nosing in would have been too tight a turn in that busy and jam-packed lot. Without an obvious spot to park, I circled around back only to come out into the alley next to the restaurant. The only spot I can see from the alley is that sliver on the other side of the girders. Jules had no problem slipping down the ditch, up the other side, and sqeaking in between the girders to settle nicely into that sliver. I marveled at myself at this point. I realized I hadn’t even really given this maneuver a second thought. I had no worries I’d dump, hit concrete, get too close that truck, or get myself in a predicament that meant I was relying on my bad hip to get out of it after breakfast. It’s amazing how a new day erases yesterday’s self doubt. This win filled my little heart with glee as I plopped into a booth for bacon and eggs.

Back on the road, Petunia helped me navigate around Halifax and down the south shore. I looked forward to seeing Peggy’s Cove again. It had been about 16 years since my last visit and I still remember the sense of awe I felt at my first time 25 years ago. That first time was in March and the Atlantic was rough that day. As a prairie girl, I’d never seen anything like it. The waves fiercely pounded on the rocks. The wind howled around me and I could feel the salt left on my young face. Although it was a calm and glorious summer day now, I expected to feel somewhat the same when I looked out over the ocean.

Well holy doodle, Batman! What a goat show! A gazillion cars parked along the highway. Eleventy Two people walking to and fro, across the road, in the middle of the road, beside the road and basically like ants on a dropped icecream cone. Gross. Disappointing. I followed traffic and was surprised by the commercialism. Where were the quaint, brightly coloured homes I could still see in my memories? Where were the wide open spaces from which you could see the lighthouse and the grand rocks upon which it stood?

Now there is an entry fee and the view is blocked by an entry building. I was so disappointed. I decided I’d do the tourist thing at Peggy’s Cove when I visit again. That day will come when I can share the beauty of the maritimes with my bestie, Sharon. She’s always wanted to come this way and I figured Peggy’s Cove could wait until then. On I rode.

The traffic thinned out somewhat and I settled in for a slow and meandering ride along the coast. It was such a pretty ride! I rolled through Indian Harbour, Hackett’s Cove and Glen Market. Petunia kept telling me to head to the 103, but not today Petunia, not today! The #3 was such a pretty ride! If you have the time and the opportunity, be sure to take it! It adds hours, but it really is a treat.

I rode past Boutiliers Point, Queensland, and Hubbard’s Beach. If time had permitted, the 329 would have rewarded me with some beautiful views, but I told Mom I’d be there by 5 pm. I continued on the 3 to Chester and Mahone Bay. I was sad to not have the time for that 329, but Mahone Bay was very pretty, so I didn’t feel like I’d missed too much. Besides, I figured I could ride that and other side routes when I do this trip again with Brian one day.

I did detour in to Lunenburg, though. I wondered if perhaps The Bluenose II may have been in town. Again, a goat show. There was little opportunity to experience the gorgeous homes and shops. With steep streets, lots of stop signs, and hordes of pedestrians in the middle of the road, it was very motorbike unfriendly. Another stop for me and Sharon, I thought. It would be easier to navigate those go-and-stops and steep slopes on 4 wheels (or two feet), rather than two wheels. I decided it was best to get back on the 3.

So there I was perched near the top of a hill waiting to turn right to bo back up yet another steep hill. It was my turn at the stop sign, but a walker was about to step in front to cross my path just as I started to throttle up the hill to turn. I shook my head no at him. He looked at me and started to step down into the street. Nothing like a ‘show down’ to liven up a ride.

“Don’t do it man!” I said, “I’m on a bike on a hill, pal, and I gotta go!” He hesitated, but when I shouted “Dude!” and shook my head again, he took me seriously and stepped back on the curb. With these slopes, and in the middle of tight uphill turn, I had no interest in stopping. If I hadn’t already stopped for eleventy twelve freaking people already, I may have had more patience (and faith in my ability to not dump my bike).

I went on through Bridgewater, stopped for fuel and a bite, then booked it down the 103. It was already 3 pm. I’d been on the road for 7 hours at this point and I still had a longish way to go. The rest of #3 will have to wait for my return someday. When I got to the Hardscratch road to head into Yarmouth, all the exhaustion melted away and was replaced with joy and anticipation. I was not far from my destination now and that meant time with people I love who love me back.

I rolled through the familiar streets and felt my helmet rise up a few inches thanks to my larger-than-life smile pushing my cheeks higher and higher. When I parked, Mom greeted me with open arms all over again. It was good to be home.